One Little Smile
by nietsmmar
Summary: How one little encounter changed everything.


It was raining in London.

Draco Malfoy was sitting in his apartment, cross his foot precisely a foot apart on his old, smouldering sofa. He was staring out the window, counting each raindrop as they reached the ground.

He had been stuck in this apartment for seven months. The Battle of Hogwarts changed everything for him. He now had no future, no life, _nothing_.

His hair was still the platinum blonde it once was, but it had grown greasy and long over the amount of time he had not washed it. A small blonde beard and moustache had grown over and below his pale pink, chapped lips. His misty grey eyes had lost their look of hatred and scorn in them, and instead, it had a look of resent and regret, something he had a lot of.

For the last seven months, his mother was serving house arrest in Malfoy Manor. Lucius was sentenced to death. His friends would barely talk to him. Not like he wanted to talk to any of them anyway. Everybody else in Hogwarts hated him. His only console in his life, Snape, is dead.

He missed Hogwarts. Sure, he had never had any real friends, but he felt powerful. Crabbe and Goyle were his favourite bodyguards, even though they were more stupid than Neville Longbottom, (But they're useful 'cause of their size and appetites) Blaise and Pansy were always there for him for better or for worse, (Or when he needed backup, which he frequently did) and Theo could be his Quidditch buddy. (After all, what's the point of being the Seeker in the Slytherin Quidditch team without someone to practice with?) Not to mention that the entire Slytherin house was under his spell. And he'd also had people he could mock freely: Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. And the rest of the Gryffindors. And the Ravenclaws. And _especially_ the Hufflepuffs.

Those seven (or was it six?) years were the best in his life. Until he became a Death Eater. Then his life came spiralling down.

He found that everything he had worked for the entire time was slipping away from him: Crabbe and Goyle started losing their loyalty towards him, Blaise and Pansy had started seeing each other so they barely talked to him anymore (On the other hand, Draco knew that they would always be together, but he absolutely _hated_ being the third wheel) and Theo had started playing Quidditch with the other Slytherins. Not to mention Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, nearly killed him with that curse. _Sectumsempra_.

In his Seventh Year, he was too busy to bother with his friends. Sure, Crabbe and Goyle were fighting with him, but Crabbe was dead. (It was his fault though.) But the fact still remained that he'd never come back. And for that, Goyle never bothered talking to him. And that might stay for the rest of his life.

Draco stared at the window outside, and his raindrop count had increased tremendously from one hundred to three hundred and five over the last minute. His counting skills had become very quick and accurate due to the amount of time he had spent in total isolation, counting books, shelves, stairs and raindrops.

The doorbell rang.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"It's me," a voice replied.

Draco blinked. "A-Are you s-sure you haven't gotten the w-wrong h-house?"

"No I haven't, for Merlin's sake!" the voice replied. _Granger?_ Draco thought.

"Come in," he replied.

The voice turned the knob and stepping inside. The woman had dirty blonde curly hair, which was wet with rain, with her piercing brown eyes which had a look that meant she could stare right through you. Her lips were firm, and her nose firm and small. Her cheeks looked flushed and tired. Her pink sweatshirt was wet with all the rain that had touched it, and so were her faded blue jeans and her red, grubby sneakers.

"Well, well, well," he sighed. "What on _earth _are you doing here Granger? Coming to tell me about your marriage to Weasel?"

"No," Hermione said firmly. "Ron and I aren't - "

"You aren't married yet? Maybe you're engaged, yes! That would be it! You're telling me about this cray cheap ring he got in Diagon Alley, but oh, it's the thought that counts. Bitch _please_."

"Ron and I haven't - "

"The Weasley hasn't proposed yet? Oh no, he wouldn't. No, too much of a weasel to do that, isn't he? Hmm... you've come here to boast about your amazing relationship with him, about the life you already had, how you've become the best Healer in St. Mungo's, or the best Department of Law Enforcement Employee, oh, how your future is so beautiful, am I right?"

"No, actually Ron and I aren't - "

"Your future is full of opportunities, yes? Maybe you'd come to your senses in the future and you're the one proposing to marry him! Oh yes! That is it! You know what? Your future looks more beautiful than you, come to think of it!"

"For heaven's sake Malfoy! Would you just shut up for a minute?"

Draco sat still, quiet as a mouse.

"Good! Number one, Ron and I aren't married. Two, Ron and I aren't engaged. Three, Ron and I aren't dating, and four, Ron has been seeing Lavender Brown for the last four months!"

Hermione sighed, as if she was regretting something. Draco looked up at her.

"Then explain to me what the hell you're doing here."

Hermione sighed, "Well, the Memorial Ball is in five months."

Draco laughed, "I know that. _Well?"_

"I'm supposed to go, and I have to make a speech and all. Harry and Ginny are going together, Ron and Lavender and going together, and I have no idea who to go with!"

"And your point is?"

"Will you go to the Memorial with me?"

Draco whispered, "Silencio."

There was a pause.

"Bloody hell Granger!" he yelled, the room shaking violently. "Why do you want me to go with you? I have no life to lead. My hair is a mess, my family is a mess, my house is a mess... _I'm_ a mess, Granger! Can't you ask someone more worthy of you, like Finnegan or Thomas?"

"Seamus is going with Fay, and Dean is going with Parvati."

"Well, what about Longbottom?"

"He's going with Luna."

"_That's a surprise_. But that's beside the point. Aren't there a lot more people worthy of you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You deserve to go with anyone but _me_, Granger! You're that smart, caring, pretty war heroine! I'm the exact opposite!"

"Is that what you really think, Malfoy?"

"Yes, that what I'm bloody thinking!"

Hermione pursed her lip as she watched Malfoy walk away from her. She grabbed his wrist.

"Look Malfoy," she muttered. "I don't want to do this either, but well... I, actually, _everyone - _yes Malfoy, even Blaise and Pansy - wants to know you're okay. It was Harry's idea. And he said that if I didn't do it, well... let's say I'll be entering St. Mungo's for a lack of literacy."

Draco rolled his eyes; he didn't seem to care.

"Honestly!" she yelled. "I might as well leave. I don't mind living without books."

Hermione turned around, sighing and staring at the floor as she walked away. Stupid git. She went for the doorknob before she heard a faint whisper in the room.

"Fine!" Draco whispered. "I'll go with you."

Hermione turned around to face him and smiled.

"Thanks," she grinned.

"You do know how to dance, do you?" he asked, lending his hand out to her. And he did something he had never done in his life, even before his torment.

_He smiled._


End file.
